Chains of Habit
by Helen C
Summary: Half an hour after the cab had dropped him off down the road, he was still trying to gather the courage to ring the bell. Five 500words drabbles, because I'm addicted to that format.
1. Part 1

**Title** : Chains of Habit

**Author** : Helen C.

**Rating** : PG-13

**Summary** : Half an hour after the cab had dropped him off down the road, he was still trying to gather the courage to ring the bell. Five 500-words drabbles, because I'm addicted to that format.

**Disclaimer **: The characters and the universe were created and are owned by Josh Schwartz. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**AN**. For some time now, I've wanted to write a fic where Ryan comes back to the Cohens after some time spent away, and waits in the driveway under the rain, scared of ringing the bell. After the finale, that idea collided with this awesome one-shot by muchtvs'.

http // muchtvsocfic . livejournal . com / 12641 . html#cutid1

And this is what happened...

Huge thanks to joey51for beta'ing this.

* * *

**Chains of Habits**

Helen C.

Part One - Now

Rain was pouring down on Ryan as he stared at the Cohens' house.

His freezing clothes were clinging to his skin, making him shiver. He should just suck it up and go ring the bell but he couldn't bring his feet to move, and it wasn't just the cold keeping him frozen into place.

The last time he had laid eyes on this house, at the end of a long summer spent grieving, he had been leaving for a new part of his life. The Cohens kept saying that maybe he should wait a few months, give himself some more time. It had taken long for Ryan to finally convince them that he was as ready as he would ever be, that he was fine, ready to move on.

He had almost believed it himself.

Kirsten had smiled gently, given him a hug, told him to enjoy college life.

Sandy had looked proud, given him teasing fatherly advice.

Seth had hugged him awkwardly, made tasteless jokes about chicks in College.

Ryan had climbed into the cab, determined to make it work.

He had utterly failed.

He couldn't even pretend he had tried that hard.

And now here he was again—eleven months older, ten pounds lighter, dressed in dirty clothes, unshaved, his hair longer than it had ever been.

The last time he had caught a glimpse of himself, he almost hadn't recognized his own features in the mirror.

Was he the same guy who had once thought he had a chance to become something better than his father, his brother, and the men his mother had brought home?

Was there anything left of the kid he had been at sixteen—scared, hopeless, desperate to get the hell out of Chino before he ended up a loser? Ryan doubted it.

And if he wasn't that kid anymore, if he wasn't even the same Ryan he had been on Graduation day…

Would the Cohens still want him?

Would they want the man he had become, for better or for worse?

It had been half an hour since the cab had dropped him off down the road, and he was still trying to gather the courage to march up to the house.

He had never been so scared—not in the car with Trey, not in jail.

Not even when Marissa had stopped breathing.

Strange.

For the past year, all he had felt was numbness. Even when facing Volchok, he hadn't felt anything.

No pity, no remorse.

No anger.

But here, next to the house where he had once been happy, he couldn't keep his hands from shaking.

Would the Cohens forgive him?

Forgive him for a year without a phone call, without a card, without even telling them that he was still alive—if one could call that being alive.

Would they forgive him for the mess he'd made?

Trey's voice was back, taunting, "Only one way to know, isn't there, little brother?"

Bracing himself, Ryan rang the bell.

And waited.


	2. Part 2

**Title** : Chains of Habit

**Author** : Helen C.

**Rating** : PG-13

**Summary** : Half an hour after the cab had dropped him off down the road, he was still trying to gather the courage to ring the bell. Five 500-words drabbles, because I'm addicted to that format.

**Disclaimer** : The characters and the universe were created and are owned by Josh Schwartz. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**AN**. Huge thanks to joey51for beta'ing this.

* * *

Part Two - Before

Ryan tried to settle in Berkeley. The dorm room he shared with another student was everything he had thought it would be—messy, with beer bottles and clothes strewed across the floor and books everywhere. Even his roommate was the perfect student-- always ready to party yet still capable of achieving high grades and getting laid regularly. Ryan would have been jealous, if he had cared about social lives.

From time to time, he allowed his roommate to drag him to a frat party, or a bar. He pretended he enjoyed the banter, the shameless flirting with girls, the drinking and the bragging.

He smiled in the right places, made a few jokes, and allowed others to slap his shoulders and cheer, "Well done," whenever he beat a poor, unsuspecting soul at pool.

And through it all, he never felt anything—no joy, no contentment, not even a small measure of camaraderie. He wasn't interested in the other students' stories, he wasn't interested in socializing, he wasn't interested in his classes, he wasn't interested in anything.

All he could feel was emptiness—a huge void where the need for human contacts once was. His life had stopped when the car he was driving had tumbled over the edge. The better part of himself (the part that cared, the part that wanted things to get better) had stayed on the side of that road, had burned in the remains of the car while Marissa was dying in his arms.

xxxxxxxxx

Ryan tried to be a good student, tried to take an interest in his classes, his assignments, the other students.

He tried to tell himself that it didn't matter if Volchok was still free, and probably still getting high and screwing up other people's lives.

He tried to be a good son to the Cohens.

He tried to listen patiently as Seth whined about being stuck in Newport with his parents.

He tried to live, if only because Marissa couldn't anymore.

He failed on all counts.

It seemed like there was a lot of things he couldn't do.

Couldn't make a life for himself.

Couldn't prevent his girlfriend from dying in a car accident, scared and bloody on the side of the road.

Couldn't keep his shit together long enough to avoid being involved with the likes of Volchok.

Maybe he understood better how Dawn was living, every day—unable to avoid trouble, no matter how hard she tried; always attracting the worst of what human nature had to offer.

Maybe he understood better why she always screwed up, no matter how hard she tried to make things right.

Until she just gave up.

Just like he was giving up.

xxxxxxxxx

Ryan stayed seventy-eight days in Berkeley.

On the seventy-ninth day, he packed his bag, cleaned his part of the room, said goodbye to the few other students who might have noticed his absence, and booked a place ticket to Reno.

And, like the good little Atwood that he was, left everything behind.


	3. Part 3

**Title** : Chains of Habit

**Author** : Helen C.

**Rating** : PG-13

**Summary** : Half an hour after the cab had dropped him off down the road, he was still trying to gather the courage to ring the bell. Five 500-words drabbles, because I'm addicted to that format.

**Disclaimer** : The characters and the universe were created and are owned by Josh Schwartz. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**AN**. Huge thanks to joey51for beta'ing this.

* * *

Part Three – Before

Every day, Ryan could feel Marissa slipping away from him.

Every day, she moved farther out of his reach.

Every day, he forgot another detail about her.

The way she smelled.

The way she smiled.

The way she talked.

How nice and supportive she could be sometimes.

How needy and spoiled and annoying she could be sometimes.

How she always gave people a chance, even when no one else would.

It was all fading away in the distance.

Everything but how light she had weighed in his arms as he carried her away from the burning car.

Everything but her face, frozen in pain and fear.

Everything but her last breath, loud in his mind.

xxxxxxxxx

The first thing Ryan did when he reached Reno was get a fake ID.

He spent the next three days drinking himself into oblivion. Sometimes, when he was drunk enough, he could almost see Marissa looking at him worriedly, asking him to stop scaring her.

He didn't want to listen to her, but he didn't really feel any closer to her in a drunken stupor, so he slept it off, wishing his dreams didn't involve the smell of burned fuel and metal. Wishing he could dream about happier times.

xxxxxxxxx

Four days after he arrived, he hit the street, trying to find a lead on Volchok's whereabouts. People like him moved a lot and had friends in strange places. Maybe Ryan would stumble across something, if he asked the right people the right questions.

xxxxxxxxx

Ryan spent one hundred and fifty-six days slumming it.

Gambling and playing pool to pay his motel rooms.

Pretending he liked to drink until he passed out.

Smoking weed and snorting coke with the hardasses, to prove that he was worthy of their confidence.

Going back to who has was in Chino, long before the Cohens and Marissa took a chance on him.

Skipping town every two or three weeks, once it was clear that Volchok hadn't been around, and starting over somewhere else.

xxxxxxxxx

Sometimes, Ryan wondered whether Sandy and Kirsten were worried about him.

Sometimes, he wondered whether Seth would be scared of him if he saw him now—all shell, nothing beneath.

Cultivating his attitude.

Becoming the tough man he had once faked he was.

Disgusting himself, and burying that disgust deep down, where it wouldn't hurt him.

xxxxxxxxx

On the one hundred and fifty-seventh day, as he was about to leave Tucson, Ryan found a lead.

On the one hundred and fifty-eighth day, he bought a gun and a box of bullets.

On the one hundred and fifty-ninth day, he stood in front of the deserted warehouse where Volchok now lived, hesitating.

Stalling.

Then, his inner voice, the one that still sounded like Trey even after all this time, whispered, "So, are you going to go in? Or are you going to stand here like a stupid little bitch?"

Ryan thought about Johnny and Marissa, and then Volchok's smile when he had blackmailed him into stealing a car.

He entered.


	4. Part 4

**Title** : Chains of Habit

**Author** : Helen C.

**Rating** : PG-13

**Summary** : Half an hour after the cab had dropped him off down the road, he was still trying to gather the courage to ring the bell. Five 500-words drabbles, because I'm addicted to that format.

**Disclaimer** : The characters and the universe were created and are owned by Josh Schwartz. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**AN**. Huge thanks to joey51for beta'ing this.

* * *

Part Four - Before

Volchok was alone and wasted, snoring on a couch in a room that ranked of alcohol, smoke, and other things Ryan didn't want to think about.

The mere sight of him, sleeping away the day like so many other losers Ryan had met earlier in his life, infuriated him.

He grabbed Volchok's foot and dragged him off the couch, not caring that his fall was accompanied by a loud thump when he landed on the ground.

Then he took a few steps back, crossed his arms over his chest and waited for Volchok to stop spluttering and realize he was there.

xxxxxxxxx

Predictably, Volchok started out by insulting him.

_"Think you're tough?"_

Smirking.

_"Playing the big guy, trying to look like a fucking bad boy?"_

Provoking him.

_"What are you gonna do?"_

Assigning blame.

_"She died because of you."_

Echoing words that haunted Ryan in the darkest hours of the night.

_"You're the one who wouldn't pull over."_

Reminding him that they were both at fault.

_"You're the one who kept driving."_

Both guilty.

_"You're the one who killed her."_

Smiling like nothing could touch him.

_"What are you gonna do, huh?"_

Volchok's smile faded when Ryan pointed the loaded gun at him, hand steady.

"Look, man." Volchok swallowed thickly. "Let's not…"

He looked around nervously, as if help was going to materialize out of nowhere.

Ryan didn't say a word—hadn't said a word since entering the building.

"I'm sorry," Volchok tried again.

Ryan didn't react. He had thought that confronting Volchok would help him find closure.

He was disappointed but not really surprised to realize that it probably wouldn't work.

He didn't have anything to say, and even of he did… Would Volchok care? Would he see that he had destroyed Marissa's life in the name of a stupid pissing contest?

Volchok's voice was starting to shake. "Man, I—"

_She was pulling her life together_, Ryan wanted to scream.

_She was finally moving on. _

_It was between you and me, and you had to drag her in the middle of it and look at what you've done!_

Volchok was getting paler by the minute. "It won't make you feel better."

Ryan suspected that for once in his life, Volchok was right. "It might," he said anyway.

Volchok shook his head frantically. "No. No, look, I'm sorry. I really am, okay?" His eyes were growing brighter, and Ryan stared, fascinated, as the first tear appeared.

"Try it one more time." The safety made a small clicking sound as Ryan pulled it back. He smiled coldly. "With feeling."

Volchok got two syllables in. "I'm so—"

Ryan fired.

Twice.

Walked away.

When he stepped out of the building, Volchok was sobbing loudly, staring at the two holes in the floor.

Ryan walked down the street, heart pounding. He took the remaining bullets out of the gun, cleaned it with his shirt, threw it in a trash can.

Kept walking.

Fuck, but Volchok had been right.

Ryan didn't feel any better.


	5. Part 5

**Title** : Chains of Habit

**Author** : Helen C.

**Rating** : PG-13

**Summary** : Half an hour after the cab had dropped him off down the road, he was still trying to gather the courage to ring the bell. Five 500-words drabbles, because I'm addicted to that format.

**Disclaimer** : The characters and the universe were created and are owned by Josh Schwartz. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**AN**. Huge thanks to joey51for beta'ing this.

* * *

Part Five - Now

Ryan had tried to avoid thinking about what the Cohens would say when he showed up again. Had it been too long? Had he lost them? What would he do if they judged him—if they saw what he had become and rejected him? If he lost the last fragile thread still keeping him anchored to the world?

He should have known better.

Kirsten opened the door.

Stared at him, mouth slightly open.

Closed her eyes, tears already threatening.

Said, "Oh, Ryan."

And pulled him in a bone-crushing hug.

"I'm sorry," he choked out, his voice hoarse. "I couldn't…"

_Could handle Berkeley, couldn't forget Marissa, couldn't kill Volchok._

_Couldn't face you._

Kirsten didn't say anything more, clinging to him like she was afraid he'd vanish if she released him.

Ryan saw Sandy hovering near them, his face drawn with worry.

He saw Seth observing them from a distance.

Were they seeing him? Were they seeing what… _who_ he had become?

"Thank you," Kirsten whispered. "Thank you so much for coming back."

"Don't—" he started.

Then, Sandy approached them, pulled them both in his arms, and Seth joined the three of them, patting Ryan's back awkwardly.

They stayed like that for what felt like hours, the cold water on Ryan's clothes soaking them, their arms around him making him feel warmer than he had in months.

xxxxxxxxx

Ryan told Sandy the whole truth, feeling he owed him that much—the drugs, the alcohol, the gun, the search for Volchok, the confrontation, the days afterwards, spent drifting from town to town, unable to settle down, aimless and empty.

"I don't even know why I came back here," he whispered at the end.

"I'm glad you did, son," Sandy replied.

Ryan absorbed to the words, the tone of voice, allowed them to fill a little of the void.

xxxxxxxxx

Ryan didn't tell everything to Kirsten—just that he hadn't know how to deal, so he had fallen back on old habits.

"I'm so glad you're home, sweetie," she said. Never asking for justifications or explanations. "We've been worried about you. We've been looking for you."

"I didn't want to be found." He swallowed. "I'm sorry."

He didn't protest her attempts at mothering him, soaking in her gentleness and her love.

xxxxxxxxx

He didn't say much to Seth.

"Did you find Volchok?" Seth asked.

"Yeah."

"Did you make him pay?"

Ryan thought about Volchok, crying. "Yes." Then, because he hadn't done what Seth must have feared, he added, "No."

"Good."

xxxxxxxxx

Ryan spent six months in Newport, rarely leaving the Cohens' house.

Allowing them to nurse him back to health, physically and otherwise.

When the pain came, replacing the emptiness, he welcomed it.

Accepted it as part of the healing process.

Dealt with it.

xxxxxxxxx

"We love you," Kirsten said, standing with him in his new apartment in Berkeley.

"We'll call everyday," Sandy added.

Both had tears in their eyes.

"Thank you," Ryan said.

They trusted him to start living again and he wouldn't disappoint them this time.

* * *

end 


End file.
